“You mean no big night down the pub? No birds in your bed?”

“Nope.” Just a quiet night at home with a girl …

“Uh-huh,” he says, finishing off with a cocky smirk. “How’s Soph?”

My eyebrows pull together, and I narrow my gaze at him. What’s he wanna know for? “You have her number, why don’t you ring her and ask her yourself.”

“Ooh, we’re a bit touchy this morning.”

“How about you shut the hell up while I work on your bike?”

“Fine, but before I shut up, I need to tell you that we have to sort out the suits next week. April has been on my case for a month.”

“Whatever you need,” I say, as I unclip his bike seat.

“S’pose I’d better get myself a new suit too,” Mac pipes in from behind us. “It’s been a while since I’ve worn one, and well, this old bod isn’t what it used to be.”

“You might as well come with us,” Jones tells him. “We’ll go before next round. Friday.”

“Sounds good,” Mac chimes in, and then starts humming a tune. “Looks like I’ve got a date for the wedding, Jones.”

“Good to hear, Mac,” Jones says. “April will be thrilled.”

****

I breeze through so much work today I even surprise myself. Spare parts are ordered. Tools are in order. Bikes are in prime condition. Today I fucking killed it.

Mac hasn’t stopped nodding at me, and a smile hasn’t left his face all day. He’s been humming and singing around the workshop. Things with the lady friend must be working out. Good on him.

At the end of the day, I’m itching to get out of here. Suds has something planned for me, and it’s been nagging in the back of my head all day.

Has it got anything to do with the fact that we’re growing closer?

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

ROCCO

“What the fuck do I wear?” I ask her, as I pace up and down the hallway. It’s Saturday night and I have no clue where we are going. Even though I’d probably wear jeans anyway.

Apart from that, this niggling feeling in my gut tells me that I might just be a little nervous. Since when does that happen?

“Whatever you want.”

“The mankini is in the wash, so jeans and shirt it is.”

“Okay, I retract the ‘anything’ statement. Jeans will be perfect.”

As our boots thud down the stairs towards the exit of the building, I have a niggling urge to ask her about the interview. It’d be nice for something to finally go her way. I fuckin’ hope it’s good news.

“You hear anything back about the job?” I ask.

She smiles, flashing me her white teeth. What did I just ask her?

“They got the reference and will hopefully be back in touch with me in the next week.”

“Sweet.” Better than a straight-up rejection.

“Fingers crossed anyway.”

“Good work.”

“I’ll drive. Might be my last spin in this baby,” she says with a half-hearted chuckle as we approach her hatchback, which has a few dents in its dark blue paintwork.

Will she stab me or hug me when I tell her what I’ve done? I might as well just spit it out. “It won’t be the last. I took care of it.”

Her head twists in my direction so fast I worry she might have hurt her neck.

“You what?” she asks, blinking rapidly. “What does that mean, Rocco?” From her expectant gaze and watery eyes, I get the feeling there’s no stabbing in my imminent future.

I twist my upper body in the seat to face her. “I don’t expect anything in return. I just took the heat off.”

Suds opens her mouth to speak, closes it again and tilts her head to the side.

I briefly hold a finger to her soft lips. Hmm, soft. Her shoulders drop as she gives me a lazy smile.

“You don’t have to say anything, Suds. Just drive.”

She starts the engine, and ‘Dirty Deeds’ by AC/DC blares through the speakers. My kind of music.

As the engine idles, a warm hand curls over mine. I look down at my lap just as Suds squeezes my fingers with her own.

“Thank you. I … just thank you,” she whispers.

I clear my throat. “Sure. Let’s go.”

Suds shakes her head and pulls away from the curb. She drives in the direction of Kings Cross, bopping her head to the beat.

“You taking me to the strippers? ’Cause I’ve gotta tell you, I’ve got no problems with that. And yes, it’d be totally good for me.”

We pull up out the front of a building with Wayside Chapel on the sign out front. Now I’m fucking confused.

“You’re taking me to church? Suds, the Vatican would have to pray for me, because I’m definitely going to hell.”

“Shut up. I’m not taking you to church.”

We get out of the car, and start walking up the path to the building, which has several lights on and a door propped open.

A road bike roars down the street, and Soph jumps out of her skin. “Fuck,” she breathes, clutching at my arm.

I wrap my arm around her shoulders. “We’re good. You’ve got nothing left for him to steal,” I joke.

“True that,” she says, through a soft chuckle.

“Mind you, you still need to report that.”

“Shush.”

When we reach the top of the stairs, Suds stops and turns her back to the open doorway. She takes my hands in hers and looks into my eyes, piercing right through me. It instantly has a calming effect. Whatever she has planned, I get the sense that it’s cool, but if there’s a bunch of hippie-non-showering people in here that want me to praise Jesus, I’m high-tailing it out of here.

“Rocco, inside here, is an AA meeting.”

“A what?” My heart beats faster and blood rushes to my face. I squeeze her hands in mine, whether it be to supress my panic or stop her from running away … I don’t know.

“I’m not going to force you inside, and I’m not about to take you in there and then spring it on you, because that’d be a shitty thing to do. What I am doing is putting you on the doorstep.”

I know I have a problem, but admitting it in front of a bunch of randoms is not something I can do. No way. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I’m helping a friend. You’ve been there for me. Now it’s my turn.”

“Are they gonna preach to me how evil drinking is? Because I already know that shit.”

“There’s no preaching. No judgement. You don’t have to join up or anything. You don’t even have to say a word. It’s about taking the first step to giving it up.”

Soph is calm, and talks about it as if she’s the poster-child for AA.

“How do you know so much about this?”

“Because I helped my nana through it.”

Her nana? The lady who’s in the photo in her room? That sweet old bitty was an alco? No way.

I shift from foot to foot as I try to work out what to do. Soph stares at me as if she’s channelling some cute-as-hell puppy dog.

“If I come in, and I hate it, I’m leaving.”

“You don’t have to say anything. Just listen, and I promise we’ll leave whenever you want.”

I take in a deep breath as we walk in. Am I ready for this?

The group is a weird mix of people—young, old, and some look as if they’re living on the poverty line by the state of their clothes. I’m surprised to see a couple of people in business suits. It’s totally not what I expected.

We take a seat at the back, which suits me because then we won’t make a ruckus when I decide to get out of here.

First we hear John. Is that his real name? He tells the room how he’s been sober for nine days and eight hours. He’s pretty proud of himself, and he earns a round of cheers and a few claps from the group. He looks as if he hasn’t had a decent night’s sleep … ever. John tells us how he drove drunk and had a bad car accident. How he got fired from his job at a transport company because he lost his licence for DUI. That his wife has kicked him out and has filed for divorce. His three teenage girls want nothing to do with him. Even though all this shit is happening to him, he’s determined to make a change … one day at a time.